


Hope On The Horizon

by CoopPenny



Series: How Stiles Met The Mikaelsons [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Originals (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asshole Sheriff Stilinski, Character Death, Child Abuse, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Gen, Happy Ending, Kid Scott, Parent Klaus Mikaelson, Reincarnation, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles and Hope are the same age, Young Scott, Young Stiles, kid stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-11 15:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13527081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoopPenny/pseuds/CoopPenny
Summary: With a recently dead mother and a father that has slowly become unrecognisable to little eight-year-old Stiles, his life is falling apart around him. That is until a little girl by the name of Hope Mikaelson decided that he was her family.





	1. Family ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, new story!  
> Let's see if this one is any good. Hope you enjoy it and I apologise for any 'The Originals' inaccuracy, I haven't watched it all yet but I just really wanted to write this!

Stiles never really felt like he settled anywhere anymore.

His mother died when he was at the tender age of eight, leaving him with a father, who was once strong and untouchable in Stiles’ eyes, that crumbled into a mourning, drunk, sobbing mess. The years after his mother’s death was hard on both of the remaining Stilinskis, Stiles more so…

While the Sheriff had lost his wife, the love of his life, Stiles had lost both of his parents, one to frontomental dementia and the other to the pain and grief. The drinking had started a few days after the funeral - Stiles looking at the box in confusion as it was lowered into the ground, Miss McCall having to explain it to him while his father sat beside him, eyes empty and face blank. It had taken a few days for John to snap out of his stupor and that was when he turned to drink.

At first, Stiles thought that it was reasonable. He’d looked up what alcohol did to you and while a lot could kill you, Stiles could see why his father had wanted to forget about his problems, drinking being his temporary solution. However, as the days stretched into weeks and three glasses a night turned into three bottles, Stiles forced himself to pluck up the courage to drag his father out into the real world (as much as Stiles loved to help his father, doing the chores and buying food with the little money they had, the rest going to John’s new habit, he couldn’t go to work and he couldn’t pay the bills. They would be homeless by the end of the year, if things didn’t change, and they were in October…).

“Dad?” Little Stiles had peered around the stair banister to look at his father from a safe distance, his uncut hair flopping over eyes a little bit. His father’s blue eyes instantly looked into his own, those eyes once being warm and welcoming of every question his son could possibly have, were now sharp and cold, sending a shiver up Stiles back; never before had Stiles ever been afraid of his father as he had in that moment…

“What?” his father bit out bitterly as he sneered at his eight year old son.

“I… D-Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” Stiles asked as he stepped further forward, more timid than he’d ever been, a pressure building up in his chest and his breath coming in faster puffs of air, things he recognised as an on-coming panic attack - something he'd experienced many times since his mother’s death.

At John’s lack of answer, Stiles continued, getting a little closer with each word, “I think it’s time to stop now, dad. Mum wouldn’t have wanted this.” That’s what he was sure of. He remembered on numerous occasions when his mother had berated his father for coming home too drunk, a bubbly laugh to his lips and barely able to stand up straight, she often left him on the hard floor at the bottom of the stairs more often than not, telling Stiles that “maybe Daddy will learn not to drink so much, next time, if he’s a little sore in the morning”. It had always been funny in the mornings, his dad wincing at every loud sound and looking absolutely miserably at his wife and son who directed matching evil grins at him.

This, however, was apparently the wrong thing to say because before Stiles could say anything else, John was up and screaming at him, throwing glasses and bottles left and right, the glasses seeming to explode against the walls and the shards cutting up his skin, his exposed feet bleeding badly from the souls as he tried to get away from the angry red-faced monster that had the face of his loving, caring father.

As the monster stalked closer to him, towering over him like a menacing figure created by the Devil himself, he sneered at Stiles’ prone form that was now on the floor, unable to stand with glass in his feet, “What the fuck do you know?!” he screamed at Stiles, spittle flying everywhere, “You don’t know anything! Your just a stupid, jumped-up little shit that doesn’t understand anything! Why don’t you just leave and save me the money of raising a screw-up like you!” Stiles was openly crying now, shaking and trying to curl into himself to shield himself from the monster, “You killed your mother… and I will always hate you for that…”

At those words, Stiles’ eyes went wide as he glanced up at his father who was looking down at him with distain. Ready to walk away. Ready to leave him in his own blood and tears, dangerous bits of glass everywhere.

Suddenly, a well of anger rose up in his chest, something hot like fire, seeking vengeance but Stiles was injured and he was eight years old, he couldn’t do anything to the monster in front of him. So, hobbling up to his feet, Stiles glared up at his father as he said in the most chilling voice he could muster, “I hate you. You’re not my dad, you’re a monster.”

His words seemed to have an effect as John flinched at his son’s words, cold eyes now shining with hurt and self-loathing. However, before he could say anything, Stiles was rushing up the stairs and locking the bathroom door behind him so that the monster couldn’t get in.

That was the first night of many hiding in the locked bathroom in the dark, Stiles still being too short to reach the switch on the side of the wall. Stiles had never liked the dark but he preferred the darkness than out there with the monster.

It went on for about a week before people started to take notice. The glass cuts were hard to explain, but he managed to get out of it by saying that he wasn’t looking where he was going and fell in a thorn bush. The bruises from the backhands that he received where explained away with the talk of walking into a poll. But as the bruises and cuts started to add up and more and more people started to take notice that Stiles would go to the supermarket to buy food with very little money they had instead of John.

Teachers and old ladies in the street started to stare at John with disgust and mistrust but no matter what, they could never do anything as John was the Sheriff and Stiles wouldn’t admit anything, often bursting into angry tears and running away if anyone where to try and bring it up.

It was only three months after his mother's death, that Stiles’ life was once again flipped on its head.

Being home alone was a dream these days, much preferred over the stumbling drunk of a father he had now (though, Stiles still had hope that his dad would heal over time, as mum always said, "time heals all wounds"). But at the dead of night, hungry with barely any food in the house despite going grocery shopping, he was awoken from his sleep with a knock on the door.

Looking out of his window, having to stand on his tip-toes to do so, Stiles felt a well of dread open up in his stomach when he spotted the familiar flashing lights of a police car outside. Another knock at the door seemed to echo through the house.

Timidly, and reluctantly, Stiles crept downstairs, his small blanket trailing behind him as clutched it around his shoulders, he opened the door to the two deputies that always brought him sweets when he was waiting for his dad. Their expressions were sad and somber, looking like they’d want to do anything else in the world than be there.

One was slightly pale and pity shined in his eyes as he crouched down to Stiles’ height and tried to put on a smile, the upturn of the man’s lips falling flat before he spoke in a soft voice, “Hey, Stiles. We were wondering if you’d want to come to the station for a while. You know you can’t be here on your own.”

“What happened to my dad?” Stiles demanded, unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer at all; he was torn between yelling at the two men in front of him and running upstairs to hide under his bed.

Grimacing, the men looked down at Stiles with pity growing, to match a tonne of pressure, between them, “Stiles,” the other breathed as his coworker stood up, “There’s been an accident involving your father… I’m so sorry, Stiles, he’s not coming home…”

At those dreaded, horrible, doomed, words, Stiles felt like someone had cruelly yanked the carpet from under his feet, making Stiles feel like he was falling for an eternity, the floor permanently evading his body.

“What happened?” he asked hollowly, the tears hadn’t come yet, Stiles knew that they’d come soon enough, once the shock of what the officers had told him wore off and he was to face the reality of his situation…

In the end, the officers helped Stiles pack a bag full of few essential things like clothes, pyjamas, extra socks and pants. Before he knew it, Stiles was sitting at the station, alone, on the old bench outside his father’s office (or what used to be his father’s office) and staring down at his feet as he swung them back and forth a few inches from the floor. It felt like hours since he’d been left there, barely giving a passing looks to the officers that used to babysit him at the station while his father was on call.

Due to his haze of confused feelings that he was unfortunately familiar with, it took Stiles a while to see that a little girl about his age was sitting next to him. When he did finally notice her, he looked at her in confusion as she tilted her head, making her long brown hair curtain over her shoulder as she smiled at him oddly, eyes glinting with something that Stiles couldn’t decipher.

“Hi!” the girl said cheerily, a real smile coming into play on her lips as she kicked out her legs, “I’m Hope.” she offered but at Stiles continued silence, her smile dropped ever so slightly before she prompted, “What’s your name?”

“Er…” Stiles said dumbly, his brain a little foggy, everything coming to him at a slow pace instead of the hyper speed that he was used to, “I’m Stiles.”

At this, the girl - Hope - frowned in obvious confusion, “That’s an odd name…”

Blushing in embarrassment, Stiles stumbled a little over his words before getting out, “It’s a nickname.” He sighed as he looked at the girl fully, willing to ignore where he was and why he was there for a while, “My real name is Polish and no one can pronounce it except for me and my d- People who know Polish…” Tears stung at his eyes at his almost slip, a pain radiating from his chest (again, not an unfamiliar sensation).

At this admission, Hope’s eyes seemed to light up with a curiosity that seemed to rival Stiles’ own, “Tell me! Tell me, please!” she begged, looking at Stiles with wide eyes as she clasped her hands under her chin, an action that Scott usually did with Melissa when he wanted something.

Rolling his eyes in faux exasperation, Stiles couldn’t quite help the tug of a smile at his lips when he looked at her, “Okay, fine. But only ‘cause you asked nicely. My full name is Mieczyslaw. Mieczyslaw Stilinski.” he said proudly with a smile at the girl, one that felt like the most real smile he’s had in months.

Hope’s face seemed to physically brighten as her smile grew and she replied with, “Hope Mikaelson. I think we’re gonna be great friends!”

Momentarily, Stiles thought that it was an odd thing to say to Stiles. Well, Stiles had said something similar to Scott when they met on their first day of kindergarten but that was different, Scott was obviously going to be a long time investment to Stiles as a friend because they went to the same school. Stiles had never seen Hope before until today, which meant that she was either homeschooled or she didn’t live here…

Shrugging off his thoughts, Stiles resolved himself to chatting with Hope, talking about children things and Stiles asking whether she was from out of town (which she was) and what her home was like in a big city. Honestly, Stiles was just thankful that she didn’t bring up anything about parents or family. He really didn’t want to think about that…

After about half an hour of laughing and talking, Stiles waving his arms about whilst he spoke and Hope occasionally standing up and sitting back down when she talked. However, all good and distracting things must come to an end as it wasn’t long before an adult who wore no police uniform was walking up to them.

Immediately, Stiles stopped talking the minute the man was too close for comfort, turning away from his new friend and staring up at the man, eyes daring. The man looked nice enough, a friendly, polite smile to the passing officers and a nod now and again; he wore dark clothing that was too posh-looking to be from this area and was blond, with a bit of face-hair, and piercing blue eyes that looked right back into Stiles’ chocolate brown.

Suppressing a shiver, Stiles put on his best cold glare as he stared up at the man. He looked plenty nice and all and was probably Hope’s dad or uncle in the way their eyes and faces were similar but there was just something about him that put Stiles off. Something that no one else at the station was picking up apparently but Stiles didn’t trust him one bit. It was like he was shrouded in danger, an indication to Stiles that this man was someone to avoid at all costs.

It wasn’t a second later that the man was crouching in front of Hope, his face melting into something real than the expression that Stiles hated for some reason — his distrust easing away greatly. The adoration and love that shined between the two of them was clear enough to guess that this was Hope’s father. And suddenly, Stiles felt none of the hate for the man that he had felt only moments before, the stranger's mask completely hidden from both Hope's and Stiles' views.

“Are you ready to go, love?” came a surprisingly soft and British accent.

Hope shook her head as she glanced back at Stiles, the newly orphaned boy frowning at her clear attachment to him (father should trump newly made friend, right?). “What about Stiles, dad? We can’t leave him!” she pleaded, eyes wide like she did to him earlier but ten times more effective, like she’d only been using 1% of her power to convince him to reveal his real name (something that Stiles didn’t do often).

Glancing at the little boy next to his daughter, Hope’s dad was understandably confused by his daughter's sudden attachment, before his eyes went back to her, “We don’t know him, love, and we need to get on the road if we want Auntie Beks' food that she’s preparing now. She even made your favourite.” he told Hope in a voice that was obviously an attempt to get her excited and wanting to hit the road.

“NO! We can’t leave Stiles! He belongs with us!” Hope started to shout, desperate tears in her eyes as she wrapped her small arms firmly around Stiles and refused to let him go as she looked up at her father.

At Hope’s words, Stiles felt his confusion growing and attempted to squirm away from her hold, only to find that she had a vice-grip around him, leaving little room to wriggle. He didn’t know this girl or this man, he’d only just met her, and he wasn’t going anywhere with them! As he struggled in her grip, Stiles looked up at Hope’s dad and tried to convey a message of pleading, to get her off of him and leave, with his eyes alone.

“He doesn’t belong to us, poppet. He probably has his own family to get back to that love him very much. We can’t just take him.” the man said in the same tone as before, looking into his daughter’s eyes, an action that his parents used to do to him when he was being told off, his mother especially. But at the man’s words, the pain was back and it hurt more than ever because Stiles used to have that and now he has nothing…

Suddenly, tears welled fast in his eyes and ran down his pale cheeks in quick rivers as his lip trembled. He didn’t want to start crying in front of this stranger that Stiles didn’t trust but no matter how much he tried, the tears wouldn’t stop and his broken sobs were barely contained, making his throat hurt with the effort. At that moment, all Stiles could feel was a crushing want; he wanted his mum, soft eyes and smile, telling him about the different flowers and herbs that she grew in their garden and how to prepare them; he wanted his dad, the man before his mother’s death broke him, he wanted the strong man that tried to teach Stiles how to hold and fire and gun before his mum came and nearly ripped their ears off before she sat them down and told them both off. With the loss of his parents would come the loss of his home, his parents’ possessions. They had no relatives to account for and that would mean that Stiles would go into the system; a system that Stiles had researched a lot about and knew that it wasn’t a place that one would prefer to go…

Thought after thought circled around in his head, thinking about what he was going to do and what was going to happen to him, unanswered questions rattled in his brain and with that came assumptions and answers of his own that got more graphic and horrible the more he thought them over.

It was really no surprise to Stiles when he started to hyperventilate in Hope’s arms, vision blurred and panic shaking his small frame so much it was like he was vibrating on the spot.

While Stiles was trapped in his own thoughts of torment and a future that had become a whole lot darker in the space of a few months, the outside world was panicking.

 

* * *

 

Klaus didn’t know what to do.

He’d arrived in a nameless town to follow up on some old loose ends that needed to be resolved. Within a day, the dealing had been dealt with, little blood spilled and he’d made Hope wait in the car round the corner while he did what he did best. In truth, he’d only been at the local Sheriff’s station to stem his curiosity about the town; he liked to know everything after all.

Half an hour later, Niklaus had stemmed his curiosity about the odd feeling he had about the town by making a woman he compelled to bring up all of the crime records. There’d been more unsolved animal attacks than a place like this should have and he’d been happy to find out that a large pack of werewolves, named the Hales, to be within the area, keeping the killings of out of control omegas clean and cut.

Business finished, he thanked the woman for her services before making her forget the whole ordeal with the immortal hybrid, Klaus went on a search for his wayward daughter only to have to bite back a smile when he found her talking animatedly to a boy around her own age, if not a little younger, who was even more animated than his daughter. However, when he made his way over, the boy’s dark brown eyes snapped up to meet his own and was surprised when he saw that the child was glaring at him, a scent of distrust wafting off of him as he looked upon the immortal. Despite the obvious mistrust, the boy seemed oddly familiar in an unfamiliar way.

How curious…

He’s quite certain that he’s never seen the little boy who wasn’t a supernatural and was far too young to occur in Klaus’ memories.

However, it wasn’t enough to make Klaus stop in this town a little longer and so he attempted to extract his daughter from the boy’s side. He expected a few tears and a little bit of complaining, what he didn’t expect was for it to come from his daughter and with such determination and desperation. Glancing at the boy, Klaus could see his increasing discomfort and confusion as he attempted to get out of his daughter’s supernatural grip.

Reasoning with his daughter to let the boy go was the only way.

One second, Klaus was trying to free the boy from his daughter’s clutches and the next, the boy was heaving in air like it was going out of fashion, tears pouring from his eyes as they glassed over, not really looking at anything. He’d seen a panic attack before, one didn’t live for over a thousand years and not see every illness and death on the Earth at least once, but he’d never seen someone so young suffer from it.

Typically, Klaus had no idea how to deal with a little boy having a panic attack and his daughter still unrelating about letting him go as she cried with her new friend, stroking his hair and telling him to breath.

In no time at all, the put-aside trio was surrounded by a concerned police force who took the boy -Stiles- from his daughter’s grip and started to comfort him, telling him that he’d 'be fine' and that 'it would get easier' and other soothing comments while others guided him through his breathing.

Frowning slightly in confusion, Klaus shook his head, willing to deal with it all later, in a more hidden and secured environment. Thankfully, the distraction meant that he could get his daughter out of the building before she started to scream and yell at him about going back for Stiles. Truly, he didn’t understand.

“I don’t understand what is so important about this boy, Hope, you’ve only just met him!” Klaus yelled at his daughter, tired of her screaming at him in the car, his sensitive ears ringing with her screeches.

“He’s family, dad!” Hope reasoned like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Klaus was about to answer back when what his daughter said next, made his heart freeze, “He’s Uncle Henrik, dad! We have to go back, he belongs to us!”

A sudden bout of contrasting sickness and thread-bare hope erupted through Klaus’ chest as he slammed on the breaks (ignoring the honking of the cars behind him as they made their way around him) as he turned to stare at his only daughter, something akin to horror on his face, “Wh-What?”

“Stiles is Uncle Henrik. He’s come back for us but he wont remember right now. He’ll remember when he’s older but he needs us now, dad! He’s got no one to look after him anymore, he needs us!” his daughter stressed, eyes practically begging him to listen to her, to trust her to be right like she has in the past.

Suddenly, the feelings of familiarity nagged at Klaus’ mind, making him pause in his thoughts of absurdity and dismissal. Maybe that was why he felt like he’s recognised the boy? Maybe that was why Hope knew about Henrik despite knowing that neither he nor his siblings dared to speak about their long deceased baby brother.

The hope in his chest grew.

“Are you certain?” Klaus asked as he eyed his beloved daughter with as much scrutiny that he could muster for her.

She met his eyes determinedly, unblinking and unwavering as she said in a firm a voice that any ten year old could muster, “Yes. Stiles belongs to us. He needs us.”

After a moment, Klaus looked away from his daughter and nodded his head, smirking slightly when Hope fist-pumped the air in victory.

Feelings of hope settles strongly through his guts.

Now, he had a few calls to make.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long until Elijah was with them, a pristine suit and a neutral expression on his face. It was only a few hours ago that he’d contacted his siblings and Davina, confirming the possibilities of the events of reincarnation. Almost immediately, they’d all wanted to invade the small town of Beacon Hills to see their long lost brother, only stopping when Elijah stopped them from doing so.

On the afternoon of the next day, Klaus was glad for the distraction that his brother brought him as he’d found out his share of horrible tales about the (thankfully) dead Sheriff and his new-found brother. It wasn’t hard to found out some information about what had happened to Stiles in the time he’d been with his father. According to the old ladies, that he didn’t even have to compel, Stiles had been a happy little child until the terrible death of his mother. The woman has apparently been well liked and many of the children loved her due to her being a fun maths teacher for all students. What he found out next made Klaus wish the man was still alive just so that he could rip him limp from limb in the most painfully slow death as possible.

Elijah found him in a nicely decorated hotel room, Hope having left to explore the town while he gathered information, in tattered shreds, shattered glass and clawed walls. If he could roar his outrage, he would but he couldn’t have people snooping about wondering what the noise was.

“Bother,” Elijah interrupted, voice devoid of emotion like usual, “Calm down.”

Swinging around to glare at his brother, Klaus bared his sharp teeth and growled loudly as he hissed out, “Clam down? Clam down?! Do you know what our newly reincarnated little brother has gone through?! Be thankful that I haven’t slaughtered this entire town!”

Elijah said nothing as he looked at his younger brother who was pacing back and forth in the room, rage and upset pouring off of him in waves, Elijah could see it in the line of his shoulders, in the movement of his hands and the clench of his jaw that gave him all that he needed to know.

“He was abused, Elijah. Our little brother was abused by a man that was supposed to keep him safe. The man getting himself killed in a drunken car accident does not suffice my need for revenge of the pain of my baby brother!” Klaus shouted the last bit, claws slashing at the bed-posts in his anger.

Tilting his head, Elijah frowned in confusion, “How do you know that this boy is the reincarnation of our little brother Henrik? We know that it is possible but is this little boy truly ours to keep?”

“Do not question my daughter, bother,” Klaus stated in a voice that meant Elijah should be very carful in his choice of words, “She has been right about this type of thing more than once and every time, it has saved us one way or another. I had a feeling about the boy…”

“A feeling?” the older vampire questioned.

“Yes. Like I recognise him… Elijah, brother,” Klaus said softly, expression calmer as he faced his older brother, “I believe Stiles is who Hope says he is. He belongs to us.” he finished, repeating his daughter’s words for they couldn’t be any more true than that.

There was a moment of silence between the two and Elijah was about to respond when Hope burst into the room, tears in her eyes and not even blinking at the mess in the room before she launched herself at her father, burying her tear-streaked face in his chest as she sobbed like it was the end of the world.

“What’s the matter, love?” Klaus asked gently when he was able to kneel to her height and brushed a few tears away.

“Stiles belongs to us, dad.” his child claimed through her tears, “You can’t let them take him! You can’t!”

“Who’s going to take him, love?”

“The wolves want to take him but they can’t! He belongs to us. Stiles is part of our family, not theirs!” Hope stated as she stared into her father’s eyes, daring him to disagree with her.

“The wolves?” Elijah asked, making Hope turn and look at him for the first time since she burst into the room.

The girl nodded her head, “The wolves want to take Stiles to their home instead of ours but we can’t let that happen dad!”

At the revelation, Klaus and Elijah looked at one another over Hope’s head a silent agreement between the two, before they both went back to trying to clam and child down and reassure her that Stiles will join their family, no matter what.

That night, while Hope was fast asleep in the bed, the room having been cleaned up by cleaners that were paid a pretty penny for the job (by Elijah's insistence) and compelled to forget ever being there (by Klaus' insistence), Klaus and Elijah made their way to the wooded area where the werewolves’ home was situated.

Half and hour later, both vampires were walking up to the house side by side, Klaus smirking slightly when the front door opened and a woman, with long dark hair and sharp green eyes, stood in front of her home, arms crossed and head high as she glared at the two strangers that had come upon her territory. It was clear that the woman was fighting her instincts of fight or flight as Klaus could see her claws fighting for a place on the ends of her fingers, making the hybrid grin maliciously.

“This is Hale territory. Leave before you are forced from our lands.” The woman stated strongly, an underlying growl in her voice.

“We were hoping that we may discuss a matter of importance, Alpha Hale,” Elijah said diplomatically, “Might we discuss the terms of your adoption of the Stilinski boy?”

This made the werewolf’s hackles rise even more as she flashed her red eyes at them and bared her sharped canines but she seemed to control herself as she kept her position of standing straight with her arms crossed. “We have every right to adopt the Stilinski boy for his mother asked my pack and I to look out for her son if he were to be alone. Claudia Stilinski was our emissary and part of our pack, her son would be more than welcomed among us.”

At her fierce claim, obviously confident in her claim out-ruling that of a strange vampire that she’d never seen before. Obviously, she was wrong.

Chuckling slightly, Klaus shot a vicious grin in the Alpha’s direction, showing way too many teeth to be human, “I believe we are at odds then, love, for Stiles’ place is with us, not that of a herd of dogs.”

There was a flash of outrage and a loud growl from the woman and two men stepped out from the house behind her, flanking her and flashing their blue eyes at the two originals.

However, before things could escalate, Elijah spoke up once again, “I apologise for my bother’s crude words,” he said, unapologetically, “But we believe that our claim is stronger than yours due to the fact that Stiles is our reincarnated brother from little over a thousand years ago. If you would be so helpful as to drop your claim, we will collect him and be on our way.”

At his claim, the Alpha looked to want to argue and the man to her right looked to want to do the same. The werewolf on her left, however, was looking at the two brothers with dawning realisation, face becoming pale and both could hear his heart beginning to thunder in her chest.

“Talia,” he voiced, in a low pitched voice, “I think we need to back off on this one. If they truly are who I think they are, it would be best if we let them take what they want so they can move away.”

The Alpha, Talia, gave her Beta a confused look, obviously not catching onto why he was suddenly so scared. She breathed his scent in, identifying the fear wafting from her Beta and automatically clasped a hand at the back of his neck, comforting him to the best of her ability at the moment. However, she frowned even more in confusion when her Beta still looked scared and tense.

At her questioning glance, the Beta nodded a head in the original’s direction, “I think they’re the Mikaelsons. The original vampires and hybrid, over a thousand years old. They are very powerful foe, sister, for once let them do what they want.”

“Listen to your brother, love.” Klaus spoke up making the siblings look at the two strangers once again, “We will get what we want. Either you can back down and let us rightfully claim our family or we slaughter you all and take Stiles anyway.” the smirk on the hybrid’s face saying that he really didn’t mind either route of the options given.

There was a silence between the two groups, the two originals standing tall and imposing while the Beta werewolves fought to not cower and whimper from the unstoppable threat whilst the Alpha fought with herself not to listen to her instincts and attack the two threats to her family.

Looking reluctant, the Alpha nodded her head once, face a hard mask of indifference but her eyes shone with hate and worry: hate for the two originals demand and her own helplessness to fight them off; worry for the boy they were being forced to give up (Cora was going to be heartbroken when she found out that she wasn’t going to get another brother like they’d promised).

With the nod, Elijah smiled plainly at the wolves, while Klaus smirked openly in triumph.

“Let’s go over the small-print shall we?” Elijah offered, eyes alight with joy that told the truth of how pleased he was about getting his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already got the second part finished, it will be posted in the week or so? Maybe? Give it 5-10 days for me to get back to you.  
> Until next time!


	2. A new chapter

It was a week after his father’s death and Stiles had been stared at in the streets and whispered about by the town’s people, in that time, and all he could do was keep his head down. He still had to go to school in that time, no matter how much he didn’t want to go; none of the other kids in his classes seemed to understand that he just didn’t want to play. In the end, he’d just sat inside with the teachers, doing extra work. He much preferred doing that after Jackson shoved him over and laughed at him about being an orphan and that no one loved him.

Sometimes, he’d be at the Sheriff’s satiation during the day, just sitting on the bench outside the office. The other officers didn’t have the heart to remove him, giving him comfort and asking for his advice on some ‘child-friendly’ cases or giving him more sweets that he'd accept, but wouldn't eat. Other times, he’d be at Scott’s house and they’d play video games to try and make him feel better (it never worked).

What was a constant was that Stiles, now, had to go home to the McCall residence instead of his own home. He had to share a bed with Scott and he cleaned up the place whenever he could; it was the least he could do, even though Mrs McCall constantly said that he didn’t have to and Scott complained about it near constantly.

It had been his father’s funeral the day before and Stiles still felt too shocked to properly cry about it. He just felt numb, a feeling he thought that no one his age should ever have to feel, and he felt like he was loosing his purpose. Most of the town had gone to the funeral out of respect, grim faces all around but only a few cried at the ceremony for the man that protected them, which made Stiles feel angry. Why didn’t they cry? Did they not care about his father? Did they not care that the man that protected them was dead? Did they not care that he was now all alone?

He’d asked Melissa as much at the funeral in a hushed whisper, giant tears already slipping down his round cheeks at the tumbling questions, but they only response was her sobbing louder, her thumb gliding over the cut on his cheek that was scarring over - the shattered glass his dad had thrown at him having gone a bit too deep into his soft flesh, Mrs. McCall being the one to stitch it up - before she pulled him into her chest. She held him like that for the rest of the night, Scott hugging him from his other side.

Over the week, Stiles had kept getting strange visits from a nice woman in a suit, asking him all these questions about his home life, and what he did around the house, and why, and, also, why his had the scar on his cheek and scars over his hands. He didn’t like the questions that the woman was asking because no matter what he said in answer, it seemed that she’d gotten some information out of it that he wanted to keep to himself.

When he asked one of his dad’s Deputies, Deputy Tara, who it was, she said that the woman was going to find him a nice home so that he wouldn’t be alone anymore. At the revelation, Stiles had burst into tears because he knew what she really meant: the woman was there to take him away because no one else wanted him.

“When am I going to leave?” he asked Melissa one night in a small voice, close to tears already.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked with an innocent tilt of his head, panic dawning on his face, “Mummy, what does he mean? Stiles isn’t going to leave is he? He’s going to live with us now, right?”

At the onslaught of questions, Melissa looked like she was getting more and more upset, close to tears herself at the impossible questions that no eight year old would possibly understand the answers to. She simply didn’t have the money. Already she was struggling by, having to pick up double shifts at the hospital and taking care of one child was nearly drowning Melissa in debt. So she couldn’t take on another child, no matter how much she wanted to, knowing that she would be setting herself up for failure and the two little boys in front of her would pay the price…

“Eat your food.” was all she said to the two boys, getting up from the table quickly, before they could ask her anything else.

That was all the answers that Stiles needed…

Now, he was sitting outside of the Sheriff’s office, bag of clothes and an old photo album, that he’d begged to keep in his possession, and waiting for a new life to come bowling through the double doors and whisk him away from everything he’s ever known. He’s heard of what happens to kids with no where else to go, but he wasn’t going to flop himself on the ground and roll around crying about how it’s 'the end of the word' as most would. No. What he was going to do was be brave and get through this. It wasn’t like he'd never been alone before; he’s been taking care of himself and his father for months before his untimely death, so this wasn’t going to be anything new.

Lost in his own thoughts, Stiles missed the fact that his new life had just walked in, piecing blue eyes zeroing-in on his prone form. He only noticed them when they were kneeling in front of him, a gentle smile on their face as they greeting him softly, an excitement in their eyes that Stiles thought was odd and a little inappropriate given his situation.

“Hello, Stiles. My name’s Rebekah,” a pretty blond woman, with a nice British accent greeted him, as she crouched in front of him, fingers twitching minutely, as if she wanted to touch him, “How are you feeling?”

Frowning slightly, Stiles cast a calculating look over her, confusion being a star emotion at the moment, because he felt something similar as he did to Hope’s dad when he spoke… Suddenly, it snapped together and his confused frown morphed into a suspicious one as he regarded her. “Are you related to Hope and her dad? Who are you? Why do you want me?”

At his questions, Rebekah’s eyes seemed to widen slightly in surprise, before they seemed to warm and soften with love and amusement directed entirely at him. Shifting slightly in his seat, Stiles fought to not look away from the gentle gaze, having not been under such loving attention for what felt like forever, his mother being too ill and his father being too broken to remember their love for him. It was unusual to receive it from a stranger.

“You are very smart, little one,” she almost cooed, eyes alight in joy, “Yes. Hope is my niece and her father, Niklaus, is my brother. I have another sister, three more brothers and Hope’s mother that lives with us but we have plenty of room and we’d love it if you’d come with us and fill one of them? Honestly, we’ve been meaning to have more little ones playing around and, as Hope was so taken to you the last time she saw you, we thought we’d offer an invitation.” Stiles kept quiet as he thought over the information, he looked back up to the pretty woman when she spoke again, “Would you like to come home with us, Stiles?”

Thinking about the decision wasn’t very hard. It was something that could rarely happen to someone like him; he felt like his scales of luck was tipping to even out as a way to make up for the loss of both of his parents. It wasn’t a hard choice to make really: go to a lovely home with a big family that have promised to take care of him, or go into the system and be bunked off to one home after the other until he turned eight-teen, and that was a long way away…

But could he trust them? There was something off, something she wasn’t telling him. He guessed they were okay otherwise the Deputies wouldn’t have allowed her to make any offer of the sort to him.

Looking around Rebekah, Stiles eyed one of the Deputies that used to babysit him the most, when his dad was too busy and she was off shift, (Tara had practically raised him along side his mum and dad, especially the year his mum was ill - getting slowly worse everyday). The look of pleased hope shining in the woman’s eyes as she watched him and Rebekah talk was what made up his mind.

Nodding, he looked up at the blond, “Okay. Where do you live and can I say goodbye to Scott and Mrs. McCall before we leave?”

In response, Rebekah’s eyes lit up with glee as she nodded her head and stood up, her expression only becoming all the more brighter when he reached up and grabbed her hand, his bag in the other.

“Here, let me handle that, Poppet.” she offered as she took the bag, that was almost too heavy for any normal eight year old to carry, and slung it over her other shoulder.

Like a blur of images, they quickly got some papers signed, said goodbye to his best friend, Stiles promising to come back for him and Scott promising to come find him, and like the beginning of a story of long lost brothers, they parted ways, determination on both sides to see each other again one day.

Before he knew it, Stiles was in the car beside the woman, who hadn’t stopped smiling since he said 'yes' to her offer. Despite all of Rebekah’s excitement and her non-stop funny stories about her little niece and her brothers and sister, Stiles felt the beginnings of nervous anxiety start to bubble up in the back of his throat in the form of bile. Questions and assumptions, each one more painful and horrific than the last, played through his mind’s eye, on replay.

Thankfully, he felt a soft hand cover his own, dragging him away from the edge of his panic attack, and making him focus on her perfectly rounded finger-nails and skin tone that was similar to his own. Looking up, he couldn’t help but give a timidly shy smile when he saw a gentle one aimed at him. “Don’t worry, Poppet, everyone is going to love you and we’re not going to leave you ever again. You'll be with us, Always and Forever. I promise.”

The words offered were strange, but reassuring all the same, and Stiles’ shy smile grew into a genuine one. After a second, he was back to looking out the window once more, an adventurous excitement coming over him when he read the sign: ‘Leaving Beacon Hills County: Come Back Soon’.

This was a start of a new life, while he was sad that his old life had ended at such and early and horrible way, he had a blooming hope and excitement that this will be a different, and new chapter in his life.

 

* * *

 

Three months later and most of Stiles’ troubles seemed to have been forgotten. He laughed, he played, he joked about and he always had his nose in some sort of book, non-fiction or otherwise. With the new addition to their family, the Mikaelson family felt like they had when Hope had been born, light hearted and joyful, everything shrouded with a bight and sparkling light for the rest of the day whenever they caught sight of Hope and Stiles playing amongst one another, as happy as can be.

Three months and still, they hadn’t told Stiles what they were, what read him bed time stories and what pushed him on the swings when he demanded to go higher. It was an inevitable subject that all of the siblings dreaded to have as surely Stiles would pull away and become afraid of them. Rebekah and Klaus would be devastated if that were to happen, having gotten so close to the boy as they had with Henrik all those years ago. And so, they postponed the talk as much as they possibly could.

Three months and the secret was finally out…

On a warm night of a late-May evening, Stiles and Hope were playing hide and seek within the house, the two having roped Klaus, Kol and, surprisingly, Elijah into the game - it started with trying to get the children to prepare for bedtime and ended with them running and shrieking through the large house, Klaus having to get extra help when he found that he couldn’t hear or smell them (Hope having gotten a hold of some herbs and potions from Davina’s place, they found out later).

Unfortunately for the young mischievous pair, Hope had gotten caught by Elijah which made Stiles attempt to set his pseudo-sister free from his clutches by jumping on Elijah’s back in an attempt to distract him enough to let her go.

“Come here, little man!” Kol faux growled, before he lifted Stiles up in the air and threw him up before catching him again, making the child shriek with glee, “Ah ha! Gotcha!”

“No!” he cried, still laughing as Kol gently threw the little boy over his shoulder, having a firm hold on his legs as he tried to wriggle free, “Hope! Help me!”

“Stiles!” Hope cried, a bright smile on her face as she was thrown over Elijah’s shoulder, in the same manner that he was, the two now able to look at one another whilst upside down, both of them grinning widely with bright eyes.

Klaus watched the display, with a feeling of his chest welling with warmth. Who would have thought that the fearsome Niklaus Mikaelson - immortal, deadly, unstoppable - would end up raising two adorable children? It had been decided that, although Stiles was their reincarnated little brother (confirmed by Davina), it would be easier to pass off Stiles as Hope’s adopted little brother. Until there came a time in which his memories would change, when Stiles was old enough to remember his other life. To put it plainly, Klaus now had two adorable children that he loved, with equal measure and with all his heart.

However, that thought was immediately dashed away, when the double doors at the end of the hall blew in, a gust of power surrounding them as a small figure with greying brown hair and murder in her eyes stepped through the broken doors.

As one, they stopped and took in their intruder, anger boiling hot in all three of the immortals as they carefully placed down their precious cargo and stood in front of the wide-eyed children.

“Murderers.” The woman, obviously a witch, hissed at them, “Vermin of the earth. You think you are untouchable. You think you can escape from hundreds upon hundreds of years of murder and destruction just because you have children to care for? I will kill them as you killed mine!”

Before she could say anything more, Klaus had rushed forward, with a speed only vampires and Hybrids, possessed and grabbed her by the throat, his expression becoming that one could only describe as monstrous, “Do not threaten my children, Witch.” and with that, Klaus severed the nameless woman’s head from her body before he carelessly let the carcass fall from his grip.

Turning around, Klaus could only hope that his brothers were able to get Hope and Stiles out of the room fast enough, before they saw his gruesome deed.

Sneering down at the dead body, Niklaus sped away, flashing into the living room where Kol and Elijah had set the frightened children down on the plush sofa. Upon his entry, Hope had immediately sprung off of the sofa and run to him, thin, little arms barely meeting around his waist as she hugged him, with all her little might.

A flod of relief filled him as he hugged his daughter back, glad that she didn’t hate him for what she knew he did. However, upon looking back up, he was filled with a heart-aching revelation when he saw that Stiles was still sat on the sofa, eyes wide and bright with unshed tears. It seems the truth was out and now Stiles would hate them all and—

A second pair of arms encircled his waist, clutching at the material of his jeans as they tried to press their little body further into Klaus'.

Looking down, Klaus was breathless when he took in the tear-streaked face of his reincarnated little brother/adoptive son, worry and fear for him wafting off of both of his children.

“Please, Klaus. Don- Don’t do that again. I don’t wanna loo- Loose you too,” Stiles hiccuped as he looked pleadingly up at Klaus, “I’ve already lost a family. I don’t wanna loose y-you too.”

At his pleads and cries, Hope crying along with Stiles, Klaus felt his heart stutter for a different reason than one of simple rejection. Crouching down, Klaus enveloped both of his children in tight hugs, pressing a firm kiss to both of their heads as he felt twin patches of wetness grow on his shirt as his children cried on him. “I’m fine. I promise. I’m always going to be here, for both of you. Always and Forever.” he softly promised.

With a glance up at his brothers, he noted the soft looks that they were directing at Stiles and Hope, their panic about revealing their family secret to Stiles finally put to rest.

A few minutes passed and Klaus sighed and pulled away, when Hope and Stiles had stopped crying so hard and gripping him so fiercely, understanding that he wasn’t going to suddenly disappear into thin air. Looking down at their faces, Klaus looked at Stiles, thumb brushing over the thin but notable scar on the child’s pale cheek wishing, not for the first time, that he could just rub it away and make it all better. But even he knew that old wounds never healed well, always there, always visible. He hated the man that had done this to his Stiles…

“Love, I think it’s time we tell you our little secret…” he stated softly, running his fingers through the boy’s thick brown hair, as his other hand rubbed gentle circles into Hope’s shoulder. He really wanted to delay all of this, he wanted Stiles to remain ignorant a little longer…

“Is the secret that you’re vampires?” Stiles asked curiously, his head tilting to the side only slightly as he looked up at Klaus who was now gaping down at the boy like a fish out of water, his brothers not faring any better than he was.

“How did you know that, Stiles?” Elijah asked, having found his voice first.

Stiles looked up at Elijah, a look on his face that screamed ‘how could I not?’, “Well, we had werewolves in my old home but you don’t howl like they do and I found blood bags in the down stairs freezer.” he shrugged, as if it was general knowledge that everyone could get a hold of.

“But the door to the down stairs freezer is locked,” Kol inputted, a frown of confusion on his face, but his eyes were sparkling with pride as he looked down at Stiles, “How did you get in?”

The boy blushed slightly, tucking his head into Klaus’ neck as he mumbled, the vampires and Hybrid being able to hear him clearly anyway, “I may have stolen the key off of one of the guard people and snuck in…”

All three brothers looked at one another in amusement when Stiles continued to mumble about how they shouldn’t make it so easy to steal if they didn’t want anyone getting in.

“Your not in trouble, Poppet.” Klaus chuckled in amusement, before he spoke to both of his children, “I think that’s enough excitement for tonight. Time for bed, now.”

With that, Klaus and his brothers carried the children, now tuckered out from all the playing and the emotional drama that they both calmed down from, to their rooms. It wasn’t long until they were kissing the children goodnight as they put them into their separate rooms, opposite one another.

As Elijah was about to turn off the light and close Stiles’ door, Klaus having gone to do the same for Hope (next night, it will be a different pair of siblings that will put them to bed), he was stopped by Stiles' tired call of his name.

“Yes?” he asked with a slight smile, remembering back when Henrik always called for him, asking this and that before he finally went away into the woods to play or fell asleep.

“Can you teach me Latin?”

His slight smile grew wide and genuine at that. Elijah nodded without hesitation, “Of course, Stiles. Good night.”

“‘Night, Brother.” came the half-asleep reply before the little boy settled into his bed, breath evening out into that of sleep in a matter of seconds, and completely oblivious to Elijah's shocked wide eyes. A few seconds passed before Elijah shook off the shock and continued to move; a small smile to his lips as he stepped out into the hallway.

Closing the door, Elijah couldn’t help but feel as if their family was finally complete and for the first time in a thousand years, Elijah felt truly happy.

And they all had Hope to thank for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Hope you liked it!


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